


scherzo rondo

by ADreamingSongbird



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, M/M, same re: nikolai plisetsky, the russian skate fam all show up but they aren't main characters so i'm not tagging them!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 01:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamingSongbird/pseuds/ADreamingSongbird
Summary: Half past ten in the morning isstilltoo early to have an angry teenager attempt to batter your front door down, as far as Yuuri is concerned, but when that angry teenager is demanding help in throwing a surprise together for his grandfather's birthday, there's not a lot to be done.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was meant as a present for beanpots!!!!!! for being so wonderful and drawing beautiful things for me and also for just being such a great person and a cool friend!!!!! happy birthday pots ily!!!!!!!!!! 
> 
> also there's an instrumental track linked during the start of certain shenanigans happening, listen for extra fun haha

Yuuri Katsuki is not, has never been, and more than likely will never, ever be a morning person.  Mornings are early and beds are generally too cozy, what with all the warmth and softness and not-being-awakeness that they come with.  Waking up and having to rip himself from a cocoon of blankets is generally a painful, sad process.

But there are some things that make mornings okay, like when he isn’t woken by a blaring alarm or too-cheerful _Yuuuuri, time to go to practice!_ s, but is instead gradually made aware that he’s conscious by soft touches and softer kisses, pressed into his hair or trailed down his jawline.

Like … right now, in fact.

He’s barely awake, mostly aware only of Viktor’s hand stroking his hair, the gentle press of lips against his forehead, and a deep-seated sense of contentment.  It’s warm and snug under the blankets, the bed is blissfully soft, and he can think of nothing better than this.

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice breaks into his doze.  “Yuuri, let’s get up.”

“Mmmm,” Yuuri shakes his head, eyes firmly closed.  It takes him a moment to remember how words work.  “No.”

Viktor chuckles, warm and affectionate with just a hint of sleepy roughness, and Yuuri isn’t really awake enough to figure out how to express the surge of affection that that sound fills him with, so he just rolls over and lets one arm flop over Viktor’s waist as he nestles his head against his collarbone.  That will have to be good enough.

“No?”

“No,” Yuuri affirms, shaking his head slightly.  This time, when Viktor laughs, Yuuri can feel it in his chest, and it’s a nice sensation.  Makes him smile.  “’S too early.”

“You’re adorable,” Viktor coos, fingers carding through his hair some more, and Yuuri lets out a contented sigh.  This is good.  He’s not very awake yet, but this is good.  Actually, if he could just stay like this, floating in this state of not-quite-awakeness where the only things he’s aware of are warmth, contentment, and Viktor, that would be _wonderful_.

Maybe he falls asleep again, or maybe he just gets really close—he’s not really sure—but all too soon, Viktor is moving again, this time carefully pulling away and pushing Yuuri’s shoulder so that he ends up on his back.

“Vitya,” Yuuri complains, eyes cracking open, only for Viktor to roll over and prop himself up on his elbows over Yuuri, beaming.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says, impossibly tender when he kisses the tip of Yuuri’s nose.  “Are you a little more awake yet?”

Yuuri considers that.  “You’re warm,” he says in lieu of a reply, because a _yes_ would mean getting up and a _no_ would just mean Viktor prodding him into getting up anyway.  The best response to these things is procrastination.

“And you’re cute,” Viktor says, looking down so adoringly that Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat.  “Have I ever told you how incredibly in love with you I am?”

“…You may have mentioned it,” Yuuri says groggily, not awake enough to fight the blush that immediately stains his cheeks.  “Once or twice.”

Viktor laughs.  “Only once or twice?  That’s terrible of me!  I should make a point of bringing it up much more often than that.”

That makes a smile flicker across Yuuri’s lips.  “’M sure Yurio would be delighted if you did.”

Viktor lets out a peal of delighted laughter.  “Wouldn’t he?  I should definitely up the number of times I tell you I love you per day.  In bed in the mornings, at breakfast, on the way to practice, at the rink, at the rink some more… oh, on the note of breakfast, my darling, we should get up.”

“Do I _have_ to?” Yuuri sighs.  “This is nice…”

Viktor’s response is another dazzlingly bright smile before he rolls off him, gets up, and starts pulling the blankets away.  Yuuri lets out a loud wail of protest and clutches them to his chest, which just results in a laughing Viktor hauling him off the bed and onto the floor too, where he promptly wraps himself in the fallen blanket and resigns himself to wakefulness as Makkachin _boof_ s and seizes the opportunity to lick his face.

Eventually, they wind up at the breakfast table with toast, butter, peanut butter, jam, and tea.  It’s a simple, light breakfast, but Yuuri isn’t awake enough to be too hungry yet, so he doesn’t have a reason to complain.  The enticing aroma of a freshly brewed cup of pomegranate green tea, however, does wonders for his state of mind.

“You’re so cute when you’re sleepy,” Viktor says, watching him from across the table with that smile, the one that Yuuri almost thinks should be illegal because of the warm, fuzzy feeling it sends through his entire body.  “It’s much nicer than when you’re tired.”

“What’s the difference?” Yuuri asks.

“When you’re tired,” Viktor says, amusement lacing his voice, “that’s when you come close to murdering me for taking the blanket.  When you’re sleepy, you’re just cute.”

“I wouldn’t _murder_ you,” Yuuri protests.  And that’s true!  …Probably!  “I only just feel like—”

_Bang.[Bang](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79uXZKUKFUs)._

He stops, startled by the sudden pounding on the door, and exchanges glances with his fiancé.

“I’ll get it?” Viktor offers, pushing himself to his feet and crossing the living room to open the door.  Yuuri leans over to see who it is.  In retrospect, he should’ve already known—there’s only one person he can think of who would try to knock their door down with the force of pure rage before noon.

“Hi,” Yuri Plisetsky mutters, hands shoved in his pockets as he scowls up at Viktor.  “Is Katsudon awake?”

“I’m over here,” Yuuri calls, bewildered but vaguely flattered to be the one that Yuri is seeking out.  Unless it’s because he wants to murder him, but…

“Good morning to you too, Yurio!” Viktor greets cheerfully, stepping aside.  “Come in, we just sat down to have breakfast—”

“Get out,” Yuri tells Viktor, unceremoniously shoving him towards the door.  Viktor stumbles, glancing at Yuuri as if to ask if he has any idea what’s going on ( _No,_ Yuuri thinks, _no I do not_ ).

“I live here?” he says, confused.

Yuri glares.  “Do I _look_ like I _care_?”

“Yurio, what—”

“That’s not my name, old man!” Yuri yells, accompanying it with another shove.  Yuuri blinks through the last of his sleepy daze and wonders if he ought to rescue his fiancé from the angry teenager in the living room.

“I’m not old!” Viktor protests.  He’s learned this time, and neatly sidesteps when Yuri tries to lunge at him again, which leaves Yuri falling forward before he catches himself, almost like they’re doing some kind of ridiculous dance.  “What are you _doing?_ It’s not even _eleven_ yet, can’t a man enjoy breakfast with the love of his life—”

“ _I don’t want to hear about your love life!”_ Yuri manages to snag the bottom of Viktor’s shirt and tugs, and Viktor windmills almost comically as he tries not to lose his balance.  Yuuri starts to spread jam on his toast and watches idly as Makkachin runs into the living room, paws skittering excitedly on the hardwood floor as he barks.  He must think it’s playtime.

“I didn’t say my love life, I said _the love of my life_!” Viktor wails, gingerly tugging at his shirt to try and pry it from Yuri’s grip. 

“And I said I don’t fucking care!”  Yuri gives a sharp tug, bracing himself against the floor, while Viktor slides a bit in his fluffy socks.  “Get _out!”_

“I live here!” Viktor cries again.  “What are you _doing_?”

“Do your goddamn eyes not work, idiot?  What does it _look_ like I’m doing?” Yuri yells, yanking on Viktor’s shirt again to pull him in the direction of the front door.  There’s the distinct sound of a _rip_.

Viktor’s eyes widen even further.  That, Yuuri recalls, is one of his favorite old cozy shirts, and that means he’s probably going to—yeah, there he goes.  He grabs the hem of the shirt and pulls it up over his head.

“Obviously, you’re _invading my home—”_

Yuri lets out something that can only be really approximated as a screech of pure indignation.  _“Keep your fucking clothes on!”_

“—and _destroying my property—_ ”

“I don’t want to see your shitty gross old man body!  Katsudon, make him put his clothes back on!” Yuri shrieks.  Makkachin barks, running in circles around both of them and wagging his tail so hard Yuuri half-wonders if he could power a helicopter.

“Why would I do that?” Yuuri asks, squinting.  Maybe he should be snapchatting this.  Phichit would certainly get a kick out of it.

Viktor manages to wriggle out of his shirt and dance away from Yuri, only to promptly trip over Makkachin and go sprawling on the floor.  Yuri lets out a triumphant yell and drops the shirt as he grabs Viktor’s leg and starts hauling him out the door, though his task is made a lot harder when Makkachin flops down across Viktor’s chest to lick his face.  Viktor lets out an _oof_ as all the air is knocked out of his lungs, then starts scrabbling for purchase as best as he can while being dragged across a wooden floor by the ankle with a dog sitting on him.

“Yuuri!” he cries.  “Yuuri, help me!”

Yuuri, by this point, is recording the entire thing.  With his other hand, he takes a sip of tea, making no move to get up—it’s still too early for this.

“Get out, stupid Viktor!” Yuri wheezes.  “And take—take your stupid—heavy—dog, too!”

Viktor makes a last-ditch attempt to grab the doorframe as Yuri drags him out into the hallway, and they struggle for several seconds (long enough for Yuuri to debate getting up and closing the door on both of them, just for some peace and quiet) before Viktor’s fingers slip and Makkachin starts excitedly licking his face again while Yuri hurriedly drops him in the hallway and leaps back inside.

“And take this, you useless geezer!” he yells, throwing Viktor’s shirt out too almost as an afterthought.  Yuuri makes a mental note to take a screenshot of this part of the video, because Viktor sitting on the floor in the hallway looking absolutely and utterly bewildered, with Makkachin licking his cheek and his shirt on his head, will make an excellent new contact icon.

Yuri slams the door shut, locks it, and stomps over to the breakfast table.  Yuuri stops recording, puts his phone down, and takes a bite of his toast.

“Katsudon,” he says curtly, sprawling in the chair Viktor had pulled out for himself.

“Good morning, Yurio,” Yuuri greets.

“Not my name,” Yuri says, eyes flashing, and Yuuri backpedals quickly, because he doesn’t think he really wants to get tossed out the door of his own apartment.

(There’s pounding on the door.)

( _“Let me in!  Hey, I know you can both hear me!”_ )

“Ignore him,” Yuri says brusquely.

“One minute, dear,” Yuuri calls, because as funny as this is, it _is_ a little mean to leave Viktor locked out with only his dog and the clothes on his back—er, or more accurately, uh, the clothes _not_ on his back.

_“It better just be a minute!  I’ll be counting the seconds until I can see your beautiful face again!  I hope I can survive being parted from you for so long, darling, but if I perish, just know that I love you—”_

Yuuri has to stuff some more toast in his mouth to stifle a laugh.  Oh, wow, Viktor is laying it on _thick_ —must be to get a rise out of Yuri, he thinks, and—

Yuri slams his fists down on the table, making all the silverware jump.  “Oh my god!  Go away!  Shut up!  Go away, stupid stupid Viktor, you’re worse than _Georgi_!  I don’t want to hear this!  What do I have to _do?!_ ”

“Yuri—uh, Yu…Yura?”  Yuuri tries, avoiding _Yurio_ this time, and Yuri blinks at him, obviously taken aback.  He’s not yelling, though, so that’s … probably?  A plus?  “Is ‘Yura’ better?”

“Yeah,” he huffs.  “Yura’s fine.”

“Great,” Yuuri says.  Another sip of tea.  This entire morning has felt _weird_.  More tea will probably help with that.  “Okay.  Yura.  So.  Why are you in my apartment at quarter past ten in the morning, yelling and kicking my fiancé out to fend for himself, exactly?”

“Because,” Yuri stares him dead in the eye, “you’re gonna teach me how to cook.”

“What?”  Of all the things it could have been, that… wasn’t really what Yuuri expected, but… okay?

Yuri’s face reddens a bit, and he drops his stare to the table and fidgets with his sleeve.  “It’s my grandpa’s birthday,” he explains, “and I wanna make him something really nice for dinner, but I’ve never cooked a meal without his help and I wanna surprise him, and you’re the only other person I know who’s halfway decent in a kitchen, so…”

“Alright, alright,” Yuuri agrees, a warm smile in place.  That’s so _sweet!_ Not that he can say so out loud without embarrassing Yuri, but he’s _thinking_ it.  “Of course I’ll help!  Just let me finish my tea.  Did you have to kick Vitya out, though?”

“Yes,” Yuri says.  “Because I’m _not_ cooking with him around.  Also, he’s—”

_“It’s been sixty seconds!”_   Viktor’s muffled voice drifts in from the hallway. “ _Yuuri, my beloved, light of my life, my love, please don’t abandon me out here in the cold—”_

“You’re in an air-conditioned building and it’s the same temperature as your fucking apartment out there!  If it’s so cold, why don’t you _keep your fucking clothes on?”_ Yuri shouts at him, while Yuuri bites back laughter.  “Stop being so dramatic!”

_Says the one who literally dragged him out of his own apartment_ , Yuuri thinks but does not say, as he hides a smile by taking another sip of tea.  “I’m coming, I’m coming!”  he calls.

“No!” hisses Yuri.  “I told you, he’s gonna be all like ‘oh, you know what’s a great idea?  I’m gonna crack five eggs at once!  Watch this’, and then we’ll have to spend three hours cleaning the fucking floor!  Don’t let him in!”

As amusing as that scenario is, Yuuri shakes his head.  “First of all, I’m not sure what kind of floors you’ve been cleaning, spending three hours just to clean up some eggs.  But alright.  We can kick him out,” he adds, because he has a feeling that it isn’t that Yuri doesn’t trust Viktor in the kitchen so much as it is that Yuri just wants some one-on-one time but isn’t sure how to ask for it.  The way it works with Yuri is that his actual requests often go unspoken, and one has to learn to hear them anyway.  “But at least let him get proper clothes and his phone.  And Makkachin’s leash.  And breakfast.  Okay?”

Yuri groans dramatically, slouching down in the chair until he’s almost at eye level with the table.  “ _Fine_ ,” he sighs.

Laughing, Yuuri resists the urge to ruffle his hair (is this how Mari feels around him, all the time?  She certainly has a penchant for ruffling his hair) and goes to open the door, wisely leaving his teacup behind.

The second he opens it, Viktor (wearing his shirt again, at least) and Makkachin both pounce, like some kind of bizarre reenactment of the time Viktor kissed him at the Cup of China.  Yuuri yelps as he topples backwards, and Viktor laughs brightly, his hand pillowing Yuuri’s head as they land, Makkachin atop them both.  Behind them, Yuri is yelling again, but Viktor pays him no heed, instead focusing on kissing Yuuri’s cheeks.

“Stop, stop,” Yuuri laughs, pushing him away with a hand on his cheek.  “We have _company_ , Vitya!”

“I know,” Viktor says, completely unrepentant as he winks at Yuri, turns his head slightly, and presses a kiss to Yuuri’s palm.

“You’re so ridiculous!” Yuri huffs.  “Katsudon, make him leave, you said you would!”

“You did?” Viktor asks, looking betrayed.

Yuuri shrugs with only a vague sense of guilt as he wriggles out from under Viktor, only to be assaulted by Makkachin’s wet nose.  Wrapping his arms around the dog and trying to keep his face away is a kind of hard task, especially with Viktor sitting on the floor next to him and looking at him like that, but he does his best.

“I did,” he admits.  “Well—I said you could go walk Makkachin for a while.  A nice, long walk.  He’s very energetic today, don’t you see?”

“So why are you _really_ trying to get rid of me?” Viktor asks, scooting over.  He leans in close enough that his nose brushes Yuuri’s cheek—

“Stop flirting this early in the morning or I _will_ throw your own fucking dishes at you!”

“So you _are_ here to destroy my property,” Viktor sighs as he pulls back.  Yuuri laughs at his resigned expression and hazards the risk of flying dishes by leaning in to press a lightning-quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before scrambling to his feet.

“Yura and I are going to be working on something,” he says, going back to his seat at the table, “and we need you to keep lookout for us!”

Viktor’s eyebrows shoot up.  “What’s the something?”

Yuri lets out an annoyed sigh.  “It’s my grandpa’s birthday and we’re making him a cake and dinner and stuff, and you should go away because you and your damn dog always try to eat things before they’re done, and I need someone to distract Grandpa from asking where I am and coming home before I finish setting up for him.”

“Don’t take the car, please,” Yuuri says quickly.  “We’ll need it to get all the food over to Yura’s place after we finish.”

Viktor looks back and forth between them.  “You realize,” he says, “that your grandfather will probably figure something is up purely because I’m going to be attempting to waste his time?  I don’t usually go out of my way to spend large amounts of time with him, you know.”

“I don’t care if he thinks something is up,” Yuri scoffs.  “I just don’t want him finding out what the something _is_.  So go away and be _useful_.”

Viktor looks back and forth between Yuuri and Yuri.  Then he grins.  “Alright,” he says. “I’m in, but on one condition.”

“What’s that,” Yuri crosses his arms skeptically.

“Yuuri and I get to come over for dinner, too!”

Yuuri frowns.  “Vitya, we can’t just invite ourselves over—”

But Yuri is already nodding.  “Fine, whatever, if it’ll shut you up,” he says, rolling his eyes, and Yuuri realizes that maybe that was what he was after all along.

“Great!” Viktor chirps.  “I’ll get going then, I’m pretty sure I have his number…  Oh!  I should put on actual pants, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably,” Yuuri says, smiling into his tea.

“Right, right,” Viktor says, a bit distractedly, and then hurries off to the bedroom.  He comes back quickly clad in proper clothes, grabs the buttered-and-jammed piece of toast from Yuuri’s plate, and grabs Makkachin’s leash on the way to the door.

“Hey!” Yuuri complains.

“Oh!” Viktor says, turning around.  “You’re right, I’m forgetting something.  A goodbye kiss, perhaps?”

He comes back to the table, puts the toast down, and leans in with a dramatic pucker (Yuuri doesn’t know _how_ he’s not laughing, pulling faces like that), but as expected at the exaggeration, Yuri kicks him.  Honestly, Yuuri sometimes wonders if the two of them operate on a script—Viktor acts, Yuri reacts, just like clockwork.

“Get a _room!_ ”

“Okay,” Viktor says, unconcerned, and then grabs Yuuri’s wrist and pulls him into the hall closet.  It’s dark and cramped and Yuuri can’t stop laughing long enough for Viktor to kiss him properly.

“I just wanted my _tea_ ,” he complains, face pressed into Viktor’s neck, and Viktor laughs too before he tips Yuuri’s chin up.  “What is _happening_ this morning?”

“I have absolutely no idea, but good luck with Yura,” Viktor says cheerfully, and then kisses him fervently, as if they just had a romantic date night and are dressed to the nines, in (unfairly attractive, in Viktor’s case) suits and ties, instead of coming from a chaotic breakfast and wearing pajamas and standing awkwardly in their own hall closet, with a box digging into Yuuri’s hip and a rack forcing Viktor to bow his head.

“You,” Viktor breathes, “taste like tea.”

Yuuri bursts into laughter again, helpless giggles like he’s some kind of silly teenager with a crush.  “I wonder why,” he says, and Viktor grins and kisses him again.

“ _Are you two fucking done in there yet?  Some people have things to do today, you know!”_ Yuri’s voice cuts through the door.

“We’re not done fucking in here, no,” Viktor calls back cheekily.

“ _Vitya!_ ” Yuuri yelps, opening the door and stumbling out into the brightly sunlit room.  He’s sure his face is bright red, and it’s a blessing he’s still in pajamas, because he’s pretty sure that otherwise, he’d be notably more rumpled in appearance than a few seconds ago. “We are _not_ —just go walk Makkachin!”

Viktor grins.  “Alright, I’m going, I’m going, you don’t have to sound so eager to get rid of me,” he says.  Just to be … like _that_ , he snags the piece of toast from Yuuri’s plate before he runs out the door, Makkachin on his heels, and it closes behind him with a _click_ that leaves Yuuri feeling like a storm just finished blowing through.

“Well,” Yuri says, and then stops, as if he doesn’t really know what to say after that, in the sudden stillness now that Viktor has left.

“Well,” Yuuri agrees, and picks up his tea again.

* * *

When they come up with a list of recipes, it becomes very evident that a trip to the grocery store is sorely needed.  Viktor and Yuuri keep their kitchen well-stocked, but they don’t tend to keep much meat on hand unless they’re planning to cook it soon, and right now the only chicken in their fridge is in the calzone that they made yesterday, meaning that in order to make the Kiev-style chicken cutlet that is apparently one of Nikolai Plisetsky’s favorites, Yuuri and Yuri need to go shopping.

“If we make a list I can go get everything, if you want to get started,” Yuuri offers over his shoulder as he goes to the bedroom to finally get dressed.

Yuri scoffs.  “Don’t be an idiot,” he says. “It’s _my_ groceries we’re getting, so I’m coming.  I have to pay for them, stupid.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” Yuuri calls, staring into his closet contemplatively.  After a moment, he grabs a nice pair of jeans, a pressed button-down, and one of Viktor’s sweaters, because stealing Viktor’s sweaters might as well be a professional sport for how much Yuuri devotes himself to the practice of it.  “I can cover it, Yura!”

The money really isn’t a concern for either of them, which means this boils down to courtesy.  Yuuri _could_ let Yuri buy the groceries, because after all they _are_ for his plan to surprise his grandfather, but he knows his mother would balk at the idea, and being raised with her morals and sense of chivalry means he’s balking a little, too.  Yuri is sixteen, Yuuri is twenty-four.  He can pay for some groceries.

“Like hell you will!” Yuri calls back, and Yuuri can’t even see him, but he doesn’t really need to in order to feel the glare that’s undoubtedly being sent at his bedroom door.  “Like I said, they’re my damn groceries!”

Yuuri finishes pulling on his clothes and heads back out to the living room.  “They are, but I’ll be using them, too, and Vitya and I are going to go to dinner to eat whatever we make anyway, so I’d feel bad making you pay for all of them,” he says mildly, tucking his phone into his pocket and making sure his wallet and keys are in the other one.

“Yeah, well, this entire thing was my idea, so they’re mine to decide what to do with, and that includes deciding who pays for them,” Yuri shoots back. 

They argue all the way to the grocery store down the street.

“The leftovers of what we buy will probably end up staying in my kitchen, unless you want to carry groceries across town too,” Yuuri says, putting eggs in their basket.  “So I should just pay for them.  It’s fair, Yura.”

“For the last goddamn time, they are _my_ groceries because I’m the one we’re doing this for, and no I’m not carting shit across town, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Yuri says irritably, scowling as he adds a packet of sugar.

“Okay, but consider this,” Yuuri starts as he reaches for a tray of chicken.  “I’ll pay, because—”

“Okay, but consider _this_ ,” Yuri interrupts, glaring.  “Shut up and take my money, Katsudon.”

It’s not until they get to the poor cashier that things get resolved.  Yuuri takes one look at the poor girl, staring back and forth between them helplessly, and puts his foot down.  He’s worked in customer service before, helping his parents run the onsen, and he’s _not_ going to be someone’s daily service industry horror story.

“Fine,” he says to Yuri.  “We’ll split it, half and half.  I’ll pay right now,” he adds as he passes a card to the relieved-looking cashier, “and you can pay me back for half of it later.”

Yuri opens his mouth to argue, but Yuuri gives him what he really hopes is a stern look.  It’s the same look he used to give Phichit to deter him from some of his more, ah… creative ideas (“Phichit, no!  Do _not_ grill hot dogs on a clothes iron!” “Phichit, stop.  I know duct tape is supposed to fix everything, but I’m pretty sure at this point we just need a new table.” “Phichit, how many adapters do you have plugged into this one socket?  We’re going to have an electrical fire any day now!”), and luckily, it seems to have a similar effect on Yuri.

“ _Fine_ ,” he mutters.  “Ugh.  But don’t you dare try to wriggle out of letting me pay you back.”

Yuuri, who is definitely not thinking of when he might be able to slip the money that Yuri hasn’t given him yet back into Yuri’s jacket pocket without being noticed, smiles sunnily.  “Would I ever do that?”

Yuri’s scowl is all the answer either of them really needs.

* * *

**yuuri-katsudon**

[video]

_♥ phichit+chu, +guanghongji+, iglionsia, christophe-gc, yuri-plisetsky, and 12,419 others_

**yuuri-katsudon** i don’t know what is happening i just wanted to have breakfast but there is a lot of screaming going on please help

**phichit+chu** holy shitttt (ᗒᗨᗕ)

**yuri-plisetsky** you were RECORDING this???????

**v-nikiforov** @yuri-plisetsky @yuuri-katsudon instead of HELPING ME???????????

**yuri-plisetsky** @v-nikiforov fuck off old man

**yuuri-katsudon** @yuri-plisetsky @v-nikiforov please do not start this in the comments on my post (´_ゝ`)

**v-nikiforov** @yuri-plisetsky </3

**v-nikiforov** @yuuri-katsudon  <3

**yuri-plisetsky** @v-nikiforov arent you supposed to be walking your dog instead of sitting around on instagram lmao

**v-nikiforov** @yuri-plisetsky aren’t you supposed to be working on something with yuuri instead of sitting around on instagram too?

**yuuri-katsudon** @yuri-plisetsky @v-nikiforov and you two WONDER why i always turn off notifications, i said STOP!!

**v-nikiforov** @yuuri-katsudon yes dear sorry :(

**christophe-gc** @v-nikiforov @yuuri-katsudon wow, so obedient! i never knew you liked being told what to do, viktor! ;)

**yuri-plisetsky** @christophe-gc YOU ARE A DISGUSTING PIECE OF ACTUAL EXCREMENT GET THE FUCK OFF THIS POST I NEVER WANT YOU COMMENTING ON SOMETHING I HAVE APPEARED IN EVER AGAIN IN MY L I F E!!!!!! ESPECIALLY NOT ABOUT THEIR SEX LIFE HOLY SHIT I DON’T WANT TO THINK ABOUT THAT I DON’T WANT ANY OF THIS SO FUCK YOU GIACOMETTI AND N O T IN A SEXUAL WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU CAN GO DIE IN A HOLE AND DON’T YOU DARE SAY ANYTHING SEXUAL ABOUT WHAT KIND OF HOLE OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL FLY TO FUCKING SWITZERLAND AND PERSONALLY SAW OFF YOUR DICK WITH A PAIR OF BLUNT SKATES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  AND THEN I WILL SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR DISGUSTING THROAT SO THAT YOU CHOKE ON IT AND CAN NEVER SPEAK AGAIN BECAUSE THIS IS ALL YOU EVER FUCKING SAY AND IM SICK OF IT I AM FUCKING TIRED YOU ARE DISGUSTING I HATE YOU STOP BEING SO FUCKING GROSS ALL THE TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  ITS TIME TO STOP!!!!!! ITS TIME TO STOP OKAY!!!!!!!! NO MORE!!!!!!!!!! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOUR PARENTS!!!!!!!! WHO THE FUCK EVEN ARE YOUR PARENTS!!!!!!!  ARE THEY NOT ASHAMED OF YOU!!!!!!!!!!! I WOULD BE IF I WAS THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM GOING TO CALL THE POLICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!  FUCK YOU AND ALL THAT YOU FUCKING STAND FOR

**milababs** @yuri-plisetsky …didn’t yakov tell you to stop swearing on social media?

**v-nikiforov** @milababs @yuri-plisetsky well, you have to admit “frick you and all that you freaking stand for” doesn’t quite have the same effect, right?

**yuuri-katsudon** im going to delete my instagram

* * *

His finger is hovering over the button, hesitating but seriously considering it, when Yuri looks over and lets out a bark of laughter.

“Katsudon, are you actually about to uninstall Instagram from your phone?” Yuri asks, and he looks way too amused.  “Seriously?”

“This is _not worth it_ ,” Yuuri groans, pressing a flour-coated hand to his face before realizing he probably just left a white handprint on his cheek.  Ugh.  His phone won’t stop vibrating, and it’s making the entire _countertop_ buzz when it does, which is just getting _annoying_ at this point.

“Your fault,” Yuri says, very unsympathetically.  “If Yakov fucking yells at me about this, you better know I’m blaming you, too.”

Yeah, Yuuri figured as much. 

“No more phones,” he says emphatically.  “No more.”

Yuri scowls.  “You can’t tell me what to do,” he says, sounding so much like a textbook example of an angsty teenager that Yuuri almost wants to ask if he’s listened to My Chemical Romance lately. 

Luckily, though, he has some leverage.  “I can tell you that my new house rule is no texting in the kitchen, and if you want me to keep helping you cook, we’re done with Instagram until it’s all done,” he says pointedly, hands on his hips.

Yuri glares at him, but puts his phone on the dining table with a muttered _you started it_ , which Yuuri can’t really argue with, considering that it’s, well, true.  So he just puts his phone down too, though he makes sure to leave the ringer on in case Viktor calls.  It’s… just a matter of disabling Instagram notifications, that’s all.

See, this is why he never posts anything…

Anyway.

“Alright!  See, that wasn’t so hard, right?” he asks cheerfully.  “Come on, let’s get back to work!  How many times has the pressure cooker whistled again?”

“Three,” Yuri answers, some of his grouchiness melting away as they head back into the kitchen.  “We’re going for five, right?”

“Right!” Yuuri agrees.  “Alright.  Can you start chopping the carrots while I fry the onions?  They don’t need to be super thin slices, but try to get them all the same thickness—”

“So they all cook evenly, right, I _know_ that, Katsudon,” Yuri says, rolling his eyes.  “Just because I don’t know _everything_ here doesn’t mean I’ve never cooked before, stupid.”

Yuuri sighs.  “Look,” he says.  “It’s just habit for me to mention these things at this point.  I mean—Yura.  Who do I live with?”

Viktor, bless him, makes a fantastic kitchen assistant, always enthusiastic and willing to help and learn.  He got a fair amount of experience helping Yuuri’s mother back at Yu-topia, eagerly chopping onions and leeks and garlic and whatnot, and when Yuuri asks him for help with something while making dinner, it usually gets done without a hitch. 

However, he also has a penchant for wanting to experiment, quite wildly, in the kitchen.  This often can lead to disastrous results, especially when it’s not purely food experimentation but also _technique_ experimentation (Yuuri still remembers walking into the kitchen one morning only to find Viktor standing on the countertop and attempting to pry a rhubarb pancake off the ceiling with a fork as quietly as possible, because he didn’t want to disturb his sleeping fiancé after flipping it “just a little too hard”), and sometimes common sense utterly deserts him (“Vitya, are you… melting a chocolate bar in the _microwave?_   Darling, you have to stir it constantly or else it’ll burn!”). 

This isn’t to say that his experimentation never works out; for example, the pumpkin flan with goat cheese sauce that he made last week, puttering around in the kitchen with his adorable apron and matching slippers, had been unexpectedly delicious, to both of their surprise and delight.  But generally, both of them always joke that setting Viktor loose in a kitchen while Yuuri isn’t home is a little bit like playing Russian roulette.  (Russian _omelette_ , Viktor said once, giggling— _Yuuri, Yuuri, did you get it?  Russian omelette, because it sounds like roulette? And I’m Russian, so it’s even better!_ —and then laughed so hard at his own joke that he nearly fell off the couch.  Yuuri had laughed more at _him_ than the joke.)

It’s also given him a bit of an unfortunate reputation as a terrible cook among their friends, after Yuuri made one too many jokes about soggy pie crusts.  Given this, Yuri looks immediately mollified.

“Okay, fine.  That’s fair,” he says, then pauses, looking curiously at Yuuri as if he wants to ask something but isn’t sure he should.  It comes out anyway, because Yuri Plisetsky has a lot of things, but as far as Yuuri knows, a brain-to-mouth filter is not among them.  “…Did he _really_ get a pancake stuck to the ceiling?”

“I mean, in his defense, it was only one time,” Yuuri says.  “And it was only one pancake!  The rest of the ones that came out of that batch were really good!”

“So that’s a yes?” Yuri asks incredulously. “Jesus.”

“Vitya has a number of unique talents,” Yuuri shrugs.  “I’ve just come to accept that prying pancakes off the ceiling quietly at eight in the morning just isn’t one of them.”

Yuri opens his mouth to reply, some sort of scathing retort no doubt on the tip of his tongue, and then pauses, closes it again, and shakes his head.  “I literally can’t even think of a comment.  You’re marrying an idiot, Katsudon.”

Yuuri laughs.  “I wouldn’t say that,” he says.  “It's more that he’s just… very spirited!  It’s not a bad thing.  Sometimes it ends in rhubarb all over the countertop, but I love him anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I _noticed,_ you two make it really fucking hard to miss,” Yuri says.  He fidgets with the carrots for a moment, then adds a bit uncertainly, “Look, don’t tell him I said it or anything, but, uh… I _guess_ I’m glad for you guys.  He’s a lot happier, I mean.  Compared to earlier, before you got here and everything.  So... yeah."  He pauses, fiddles with the carrots some more, and adds, "But I’m serious!  Don’t tell him I noticed or else he’ll never shut up, though, I _mean_ it.”

Yuuri pauses, a smile creeping across his face.  Viktor and Yuri, he’s noticed, have this funny kind of relationship where they both care deeply for each other but never seem to acknowledge it out loud—it’s always in actions, never in words.  So hearing Yuri _say_ that he’s happy for them, out loud, well…

He kind of really wants to pull Yuri into a hug, but maybe that’s a bad idea considering that his hands have flour on them and Yuri’s also holding a knife, so he settles for playfully bumping him with his hip as he passes by.  God, he really _is_ turning into Mari, huh?  She does this to him all the time!

“Thank you, Yura,” he says genuinely, unable to keep the grin away.  “I’m really glad to hear you say that.  Don't worry.  I won't tell him, but that's because he already knows, too.”

“I know,” Yuri says, rolling his eyes.  He looks relieved that Yuuri isn’t making a big deal of this.  “Y'know, it's just small stuff.  Like, I don’t think I would’ve gotten away with kicking him out of his own apartment before.  But he laughs at more stuff these days, so I figured it’d be fine.”

Yuuri lets out a peal of laughter, fighting down the urge to hug Yuri again.  _He laughs at more stuff these days_ —and that’s supposedly because of Yuuri?  The thought makes him smile giddily as he stirs the onions on the stove.  “You’re telling me my influence makes him more okay with getting kicked out of his own front door?”

“Yeah,” Yuri deadpans.  He starts to cut the carrots—the knife hits the cutting board rhythmically, _chop, chop, chop_.  “It makes my life easier, I guess, even if you two _are_ always all over each other.  So you better stay with him, or else.”

Yuuri smiles down into his skillet.  “Don’t worry,” he says.  “I’m definitely planning to.”

* * *

 

[14:13] Yuri Plisetsky:  
do you ever start to think you really should have done something sooner

[14:15] Beka:  
What’s the something

[14:15] Yuri Plisetsky:  
barging into viktor and katsudons apartment

[14:16] Beka:  
?

[14:16] Yuri Plisetsky:  
its already quarter past 14 and we still arent done cooking beka  
the grocery trip took ages and food takes so fucking long to make ugghhgh  
and itll take some time to get from here to my place with all this shit  
and then we have to set up over there  
what if it doesn’t get done in time!!!!!

[14:18] Beka:  
I’m sure it will be fine  
But if you don’t finish in time then you just have a late dinner  
That won’t be the end of the world and I’m sure it would mean just as much to your grandfather

[14:19] Yuri Plisetsky:  
ughhghghghhghgghgghhhhghghhhhghgghggghhhghh  
i GUESS

* * *

**yuri-plisetsky**

[image]

♥ _phichit+chu, v-nikiforov, milababs, and 1,339 others_

**yuri-plisetsky** @yuuri-katsudon said no instagram while we’re working on this thing but now he’s staring at his phone and giggling so i wonder how long i can stand here really obviously taking pictures of him without him noticing, even when i tag him in them

* * *

**yuri-plisetsky**

[image]

♥ _phichit+chu, v-nikiforov, milababs, and 1,257 others_

**yuri-plisetsky** @yuuri-katsudon

* * *

**yuri-plisetsky**

[image]

♥ _v-nikiforov, phichit+chu, christophe-gc, and 1,094 others_

**yuri-plisetsky** @yuuri-katsudon

* * *

**yuri-plisetsky**

[image]

♥ _v-nikiforov, phichit+chu, georgip, and 1,052 others_

**yuri-plisetsky** oh my god i’m starting to think @yuuri-katsudon actually did delete instagram from his phone earlier

* * *

**yuri-plisetsky**

[image]

♥ _phichit+chu, v-nikiforov, christophe-gc, and 1,021 others_

**yuri-plisetsky** @yuuri-katsudon

**v-nikiforov** Oh my god I’m going to die he’s so cuteeeee ♥♥♥♥♥

**yuri-plisetsky** @v-nikiforov im torn between posting more so that you die already and being disgusted with myself for providing you more opportunities to be ………like that

* * *

**v-nikiforov**

[image]

♥ _phichit+chu, christophe-gc, milababs, and 2,385 others_

**v-nikiforov** I’m starting to wonder if Makkachin loves Nikolai Plisetsky more than he loves Yuri Plisetsky!!  Maybe he can sense the cat person aura? #dogsofinstagram #poodles #makkachinbeingcute #makkachinandnikolaibffs #guessI’mgivingupon #makkachinandyuribffs

**yuri-plisetsky** what the shit are you suggesting your dog is going to steal my grandfather or something?????? also stop texting katsudon he’s still giggling at his phone wtf

**v-nikiforov** @yuri-plisetsky ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

* * *

[14:25] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
How’s it going? <3

[14:29] Yuuri:  
pretty good!!! c: we’re almost done with all the savory dishes (the curry came out pretty well)!  
the stuffed chicken is in the oven, but when it’s done all that’ll be left is the cake!

[14:30] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
Wow!!!!  You’ve been working so hard! <3

[14:31] Yuuri:  
haha, kind of, yeah! <3  
i think we’ll be done with the cake in maybe two hours (it has to cool before we can decorate it)  
so maybe 18:00 is a good time for dinner?

[14:32] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
That sounds good!! Except…

[14:32] Yuuri:  
except what? D:

[14:33] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
I have to wait another three and a half hours to see you!!!! (TдT)

[14:33] Yuuri:  
omg… vitya…  
you just saw me this morning, you silly man <3 <3 <3

[14:34] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
!!!!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3!!!!!!! <3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3!!!!!!!!!!!

[14:36] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
You have been typing for some time?

[14:37] Yuuri:  
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[14:37] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH SO THAT IS WHY YOU WERE TYPING SO MUCH

[14:38] Yuuri:  
haha yes!!!! <3!!  
oh no you’re doing it too now, aren’t you???

[14:40] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3  
Yes I am!!!! My Yuuri knows me so well :*  
I love you!!!!!!!!!!!

[14:41] Yuuri:  
I love you too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[14:42] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
I love you more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[14:42] Yuuri:  
well, i love you most!!!!!!!!!!!

[14:43] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
I love you mostest!!!!!!!!!!!!

[14:43] Yuuri:  
i love you mostestest!!!!!

[14:43] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
I love you mostestestest!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[14:44] Yuuri:  
this is yuri i took his phone i am literally begging you to stop he’s just standing there and fucking giggling instead of telling me how the hell to marble cake batter please stop we’re so close to being done don’t ruin this for me now  
also what the fuck. are all of your conversations like this. what the actual fuck that’s not how english fucking works

[14:45] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
Holy shit, you said please.  
Okay, I will hush, if you give him a kiss for me!!!! ;D

[14:46] Yuuri:  
vitya!!! yura just kissed my cheek??? i feel like i have been BLESSED?? CHOSEN????  
oh. i see, never mind, you coerced him into it… :(

[14:47] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
He actually did it??  Wow, he must be desperate.  
Okay, then I guess I have to stop being a distraction… （◞‸◟）  
See you in three hours, my love <3

[14:47] Yuuri:  
oh, okay then!!! see you <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <2  
*<3 <3 <3 <3 !!!!

* * *

“We have plenty of time,” Yuuri says, attempting to be a calming, rational, soothing presence.  “I promise the cake will be done and cool and frosted and we’ll still have time to get it over to your place for dinner.”

Yuri scowls.  “I’m not worried.”

Of course he isn’t.  That’s why he’s going to pace a hole through the kitchen floor.  Yuuri refrains from commenting further, though—Yuri is all actions, never words.  He doesn’t take words that well, even words that are meant to be comforting and helpful.

“Alright,” he says instead.  “Come here, then.”

Yuri is at his side in an instant.  “What?”

“Do you want to make the frosting or put the cake in the baking pan?” Yuuri asks.  “Whichever you don’t want to do, I’ll do after I clean up a bit.”

“Just show me how to make it look all _marbled_ or whatever and I’ll do it,” Yuri huffs.  “I just want this thing in the oven already.”

Yuuri laughs.  “It’s actually really easy,” he says, pushing the two bowls of mixed batter toward the pan.  Swiveling around, he reaches for a drawer and pulls out two deep serving spoons and a butter knife.  One spoon goes in the vanilla batter and the other in the chocolate, and then it’s a simple matter of ladling out approximately-equal sections of alternating batter in a rough approximation of a checkerboard pattern.  Yuuri gets it started, then passes the spoons to Yuri. “Just finish filling in the entire pan like that,” he says.  “Then all you do is swirl the knife through it to mix them a little bit—not too much, though—and then stick it in the oven!”

“Wait,” Yuri blinks.  “It’s… that easy?”

Yuuri grins.  “Yeah!”  It’s funny—even with all his cooking experience from home, he never knew how to make cakes until he moved in with Phichit and the two of them found themselves de-stressing after midterms by chilling on the couch and watching Food Network shows on their tiny secondhand TV.  To this day, even though most cooking makes him think of Hasetsu and his parents’ kitchen, cakes always conjure up memories of his Detroit apartment kitchen and flour fights with Phichit.

“Huh,” Yuri says, and starts spooning batter into the pan.

Yuuri turns away, humming to the pop music they’ve been blaring for the past few hours, as the oven beeps.  He first retrieves the chicken and sets it on the stovetop to cool, then sets the oven to the slightly lower temperature required for the cake, and finally turns to tackle the aftermath of the batter-making.

When he reaches for the box of flour, intending to be a responsible adult and put it away in the cabinet where it belongs, though, he pauses, another memory from Detroit flickering through his mind.  He grins to himself, sneaks a glance over his shoulder at Yuri, and dips his fingertips into the flour.

“Hey, Yura,” he says, walking over, and while it’s always possible that teasing Yuri is effectively signing his own death warrant, this seems like a great idea, so he just smiles when Yuri looks up.

“What?” he asks, raising one eyebrow.  It’s the work of a moment for Yuuri to first boop his nose and then drag three fingers across each cheek, leaving a powdery white flour trail, and Yuri yelps and ducks away.  “Katsudon, what the fuck?!”

“Cat whiskers!” Yuuri laughs.  “Just for you!”

Yuri stares at him impassively, flour whiskers and all, and then stalks past Yuuri without a word.  He’s probably going to just wash his face, Yuuri supposes, and that’s a little bit of a shame; he thought maybe it might lighten the mood, if Yuri is still worrying they’ll be too late for a good dinnertime.

But then Yuri grabs the flour, liberally coats his hands, and returns, pokes Yuuri’s nose, and gives him the same treatment.

“ _Cat_ -sudon,” he says by way of explanation, and then cracks into a grin.  “This is going on Instagram, by the way.   Don’t you even _try_ and stop me.”

“Of course it is,” Yuuri agrees, already having given up, while Yuri dusts the flour from his hands and retrieves his phone.  He wraps his arm around Yuri’s shoulders as Yuri leans in for the selfie, still grinning, and captions it simply “cooking with cat-sudon”.  _Cute_.  “I want to save that photo,” he says, pulling out his own phone.  There are no new texts from Viktor, who apparently is taking his duty of not being a distraction seriously.

“Sure,” Yuri shrugs, “or I can send it to you.  Whatever.”

“Mm, that works too,” Yuuri says, but he’s already opened Instagram, so really, it hardly matters.  But wait—

He pauses.

“Yura?  What are all these tagged photos—wait, when did you even _take_ these?  Just now?  But we were—wait, I didn’t even realize you were taking pictures!  How many—”

Yuri bursts into laughter.  

* * *

[17:05] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
Heads up – I couldn’t keep him distracted forever, we’re about to head over!!

[17:07] Yuuri:  
shit well ok thanks for letting us know  
this is yuri btw  
katsudon is driving, we’re almost to my place  
i hope you know that your name in his phone is a fucking obscene number of hearts

[17:08] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
I thought it was only ten?

[17:09] Yuuri:  
like i said, obscene.

[17:09] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
…Yurio, you’re making me consider breaking a promise to Yuuri.  I told him I wouldn’t go overboard and make his name in my phone as many hearts as I could fit in the character limit, because if either of us started increasing the number of hearts, we both definitely would turn it into an arms race (hearts race?) and we know it, but you’re really making me want to demonstrate what an actually obscene number of hearts would be.  
Besides, no amount of hearts is enough for how much I love him :)

[17:11] Yuuri:  
i read that out loud to him and he said to tell you he loves you too and to “please don’t do that”.  
you two are so fucking ridiculous. god. its like you were made for each other

[17:12] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
Yurio!!!!!!!!!

[17:12] Yuuri:  
FUCK OFF

[17:12] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
I have to say, it is so weird seeing those words come from Yuuri’s number.

[17:13] Yuuri:  
…whatd you name him anyway, something equally ridiculous i assume

[17:13] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
[image:screenshot414.jpeg]

[17:13] Yuuri:  
you  
you actually saved him as “the light of my life the apple of my eye my one true love”  
oh my god

[17:14] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
That’s what he is!!!!!! <3

[17:18] Yuuri:  
vitya oh my goodness i didn’t know you saved me as that??? i thought it was just “life and love” omggg?? when did you change it????

[17:19] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
Just now.  I was afraid he wouldn’t find “life and love” ridiculous enough.  Don’t tell him!  
So I’m guessing you’re setting up the food now?

[17:20] Yuuri:  
omg you are so silly i love you hahaha  
and yes!!!!!! it shouldn’t take too long. how far away are you?

[17:21] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
I love you too!!!  I think we’ll be there in around 40 minutes?  Just about on the hour!

[17:21] Yuuri:  
oh wow what good timing! ok we’re gonna go get everything set up, ttyl <3

[17:22] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
Okay!! Keep me posted if you need anything!! <3

[17:22] Yuuri:  
will do!!

[17:48] Yuuri:  
okay!!!!! everything is ready on our end!!!

[17:48] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
Wonderful!!!!!!!  We’re almost there, give us maybe ten, fifteen minutes?  
See you soon, darling!!!!

[17:48] Yuuri:  
see you soon!!!!! <3 <3

* * *

The table is set, the food is nice and warm in the kitchen, the cake is hidden for an extra surprise with candles at the ready, and one of Yuri’s cats (there are three and Yuuri can never keep their names straight) is purring in Yuuri’s lap.  It’s remarkably still and quiet, after all the hustle and bustle of the day, and Yuuri definitely appreciates the downtime.

“Are they almost here?” Yuri asks, slumping against Yuuri’s side and laying his head on his shoulder.  He idly scrolls through first Facebook and then Instagram, flipping back and forth intermittently to text here and there, and Yuuri smiles fondly.  “I kinda want to take a nap.”

“I don’t think we have time for that, unfortunately,” Yuuri says ruefully.  He leans his cheek against Yuri’s hair and breathes, enjoying the stillness, knowing that everything is ready and waiting.  It’s calm, being able to sit like this, after so many hectic hours.  “But we can sit here, I guess.”

He strokes the cat’s soft fur and is rewarded by a soft _mew_ for his efforts, which makes him smile.

“She’s cuter than Makkachin,” Yuri says, daring Yuuri to argue.  It’s painfully obvious bait, but for Makkachin’s honor, Yuuri can’t ignore it.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” he answers wryly, playfully flicking Yuri’s hand.  “Makkachin will always be number one in my heart.”

Yuri snorts.  “I’m telling Viktor,” he says.

Is… is that supposed to surprise and/or upset Viktor in any way?  Yuuri raises an eyebrow, amused, and shrugs slightly.  “…Okay?”

Yuri groans.

“…You’re _right_ ,” he huffs, rubbing his face.  “He’d just be _glad_ because you love his dumb dog so much.  God, Katsudon, you’re marrying such a _weirdo_.”

Yuuri laughs.  “You expect me to believe you’d ever marry someone who doesn’t put the twenty cats you’ll have by then first?”

“I didn’t say that,” Yuri says quickly.

“That’s what I thought,” Yuuri says, with definitely absolutely no hint of smugness in his voice whatsoever.

“Whatever,” Yuri says, and though Yuuri can’t see his face from this angle, he can practically _hear_ him rolling his eyes.  “My point still stands.  Viktor’s weird as hell.”

“Sure, yeah,” Yuuri agrees, shrugging.  Anyone who wants to impulse-buy twelve different lamps on one shopping trip probably can be called weird.  Also, anyone who’s a morning person, by default, is weird.  So Viktor, dearly beloved darling Viktor, _definitely_ fits that label.  “It’s why I love him!”

Yuri waves a hand.  “Yeah, yeah, whatever, but I swear to god, if you two sit here and eyefuck each other the entire time and make me and Grandpa third-wheel in our own house…”

Yuuri laughs.  “We won’t, we won’t, I promise,” he says, glancing at the row of hearts across the screen on his phone.  Viktor and Nikolai will be here any minute now.  “We can even play board games.  Family game night!  That kind of thing!”

Suddenly, Yuuri’s phone buzzes.  He glances down at it and lets out a surprised _eep_.

[17:59] ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥:  
By the way, I forgot to mention earlier, but I kind of picked up a few extra mouths to feed.

Yuri leans over to look, too, his eyes widening before his face settles into a scowl.  “What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“I… don’t know?” Yuuri says, starting to fret.  And there’s no time to recover, either, so what do they do?  “ _How many_ —and who—we only made so much food?”

“I mean, it _is_ a lot of food,” Yuri mutters.  “I told you me and Grandpa probably would take a few days to finish it all, but…”

A key sounds in the door before either of them can do much more than stare at each other, frantic.  Then Yuuri hops to his feet and hauls Yuri up too, putting on his best _happy birthday_ smile.

The door opens, and Nikolai Plisetsky blinks at the two of them.

“Yurotchka and Yura,” he greets.  “I was wondering if I would find you both here after all!”

“Happy birthday, Mr. Plisetsky!” Yuuri bursts out.  “We hope you’ve had a good day, and—”

“Yuuri!” Viktor’s voice drifts in, a cheery trill as his head appears over Nikolai’s shoulder.  “And Yurio!  Wonderful!”

Nikolai enters the front room, glances around through the archway into the dining room, sees the neatly-set table—ready for four—and frowns.  Then he sniffs and detects the aromas of all the hot and ready food, and frowns some more.  “What’s this?” he asks. 

“It’s dinner,” Yuri says, ducking his head.  “We made a bunch of stuff for you.  I thought, you know, you said you missed being able to really have people over last week, so…”

Nikolai’s eyes widen, and then his face splits into a wide, craggy smile.  “Yurotchka,” he says, and pulls Yuri into a hug. “Thank you, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  Happy birthday, Grandpa,” Yuri mumbles, hugging back.  It’s adorable, and Yuuri catches Viktor’s eye over their shoulders and grins.

“Hey!” a new voice cries—Mila, Yuuri realizes—from outside.  “Viktor, get your big butt out of the way, it’s cold out here and I’m holding stuff!”

“My butt is a perfectly reasonable size, thank you!” Viktor calls back, but he stops hovering in the doorway and immediately comes to wrap his arms around Yuuri instead, beaming, and Makkachin trots after him.  “Hello, darling!”

As Yuuri smiles, hugs him back tightly, and kisses his cheek in greeting, Mila spills through the doorway with a bag of chips and what appears to be a tray of dip in her arms.  “Hey, Yuris!” she greets, grinning.  “A little birdie told us there was a party tonight, so…”

“ _Viktor!”_ Yuri hisses, pulling away from his grandfather to smack Viktor on the arm.  Makkachin nudges him, and the irate looks he’s sending Viktor while gently petting Makkachin’s head are such a contrast that Yuuri almost laughs.  “Inviting _yourself_ over is one thing, you ass, but inviting _her_ over for me?”

“Wait,” Yuuri says faintly.  “Wait, you said _us?”_

“Yes, she said ‘us’, and I suppose we all should have learned our lesson a long time ago, but the moral of this story is that nobody should ever trust Viktor to keep people informed on what’s going on,” Georgi says pointedly, following Mila with a veggie platter.  “Shall we put these in the kitchen?”

“Um,” Yuuri says.  “I… I guess?  Sure?”

“Fantastic!” Mila chirps.  “Come on, Georgi!”

The two of them troop right on past, while Yuuri and Yuri exchange bewildered glances.  So _that’s_ what Viktor meant by “a few extra mouths to feed”…  Of course.  Oh, Vitya.

“You’re helping with the dishes, Nikiforov,” Yuri informs Viktor, glaring.  “Katsudon isn’t, because _he_ helped me cook and unlike _some_ people, he didn’t invite a bunch of people over without telling me—”

A new voice cuts in, sharp and slightly incredulous.  “You didn’t _tell_ him we were coming?”

Yuuri is suddenly quite glad for the arms holding him up, because without Viktor, he would have just had to sit down on the couch in shock.  _Lilia Baranovskaya_ is standing in the doorway, piercing gaze narrowed at Viktor, and behind her Yakov is there too, holding what appears to be a bottle of wine—a birthday present, if the bow tied around the neck is anything to judge by.

“You had _hours_ to let them know, Vitya,” Yakov reprimands, frowning at Viktor.  Lilia just shakes her head as if she doesn’t know what else to have expected, and turns to greet Nikolai, who is watching the proceedings with pretty evident amusement, his dark eyes twinkling with mirth.

Viktor laughs airily, waving a hand as Yakov’s brows knit together in consternation.  “Oh, well, I guess in all our running around the city to get everyone and also extra party supplies, it just slipped my mind!”

Yuri makes an incredulous noise and stamps his foot, planting his hands on his hips.  “You _idiot_ , if you were going around to pick everyone up and get party supplies _to throw a party at my house_ , how the hell did it _slip your mind_ —and also, how the hell was gathering a bunch of people and stuffing them into Grandpa’s van your idea of keeping the dinner party a secret— _ugh!”_

He throws up his arms and stalks away, going to stand at Nikolai’s side and saying something to him and Lilia, while Yuuri sighs and looks up at Viktor, who is still holding him snug against his chest.  Makkachin sits down on Yuuri’s feet.

“I’m beginning to think,” Yuuri murmurs, fond exasperation coloring his voice, “that the real reason you’re so big on surprises is just that you always forget to tell everyone what you’re planning.  This is more or less how it was when you showed up in Hasetsu, too.”

“Well,” Viktor says, his lips twitching, and then he gives up and just grins unrepentantly.  “That could be it.”  He kisses Yuuri’s temple, and Yuuri can’t help but laugh at him as he scratches behind Makkachin’s ears.  “It’s fine, though, right?  We did bring snacks and drinks and things, plus you did say you made a lot of food, so…”

“Yes, yes, it’s fine,” Yuuri assures him, patting his chest.  “We’ll make do.  The more the merrier, and all that.  Plus, I think Yura is actually pretty happy that everyone showed up for his grandfather.”

When he looks back over, Yakov and Lilia have closed the door behind them and are talking to Nikolai, while Yuri stands nearby, not quite in the conversation but not entirely out of it, either.  Yuuri waves him over.

“Everything’s okay?” he asks, just to make sure.

Yuri waves him off, rolling his eyes.  “Yeah, yeah, Grandpa’s fine with it, especially with _them_ here.  He likes talking to other old people—you should go hang out with them, Viktor—so he’s happy.  So I guess it’s fine, so long as nobody acts like a fucking moron and ruins the house or does anything stupid in general.”

This last is said with a pointed stare at Viktor.  Laughter bubbles up in Yuuri’s throat as Viktor squawks indignantly, drawing the attention of everyone still in the front room.

“I would _never!”_ he protests.  “Unlike some people, I’ve never barged into someone’s living space and attempted to rip their poor shirt or threatened to break their dishes—”

“I had a good cause!” Yuri exclaims.  “How _else_ was I supposed to talk to Katsudon without you hanging off of him like some kind of stupid, clingy limpet?”

Yuuri does not answer _you could have just asked_.  Rational answers like that do not belong in this odd little patchwork family—he’s learned to leave them at the door.

“Yurotchka, you did _what?”_ Nikolai asks, eyebrows rising.  “Also, please, let’s go start dinner, I would hate for what you worked so hard on to go to waste!”  He starts ushering them toward the kitchen, and like a little knot centered around Yuri, Yuuri, and Viktor, the group starts to migrate.  Makkachin, tired from a day out, trots to the couch, hops up, and settles down for a nap.

“Oh, no worries,” Viktor assures quickly as they file through the doorway into the kitchen.  “He’s done worse, and he didn’t _actually_ throw any dishes.  All bark and no bite, this one!”

He lets go of Yuuri to ruffle Yuri’s hair.  Yuri swats his arm away and scowls.

“No bite, huh?” Yuuri teases.  The cat that was on the couch earlier—she’s short-haired, mostly white, and has a brown spot on her chin, but he still can’t remember her name—winds around his legs, nearly making him trip and meowing loudly.  He melts, bending down to scoop her up, and keeps walking. 

“Try me and I _will_ bite you,” Yuri glares, then softens to drop a kiss to the head of the cat in Yuuri’s arms.

“Kinky,” Mila calls from across the kitchen, where she’s busy getting out enough glasses for all eight of them.

_“Babacheva, I’ll fucking end you_ —”

“Language,” Nikolai and Lilia say at the same time.  Yakov merely groans.

“We should’ve brought vodka,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We will probably need it, stuck in a house with these children all evening.”

“Ah, come now,” Viktor wheedles.  “We’re not _that_ bad.”

Yakov gives him the flattest, most unimpressed look Yuuri has ever seen.  Viktor continues beaming, so unfazed that Yuuri has to wonder how many times he’s said something to warrant that look.  The cat starts purring, and he grins.

“Yes,” Yakov says.  “You are.”

“Aw, Yakov!” Mila sings.  “You know you love us!”

“Though I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t,” Georgi sighs.  “We do seem to be a kind of unlovable bunch…”

“Hey!” Viktor jumps in, indignant.  “Speak for yourself—”

“He is,” Yuri interjects.

“—because I know I personally am _very_ loved!  Do you know how many hearts Yuuri saved in my contact information on his phone?  I’m very lovable!”

“You are,” Yuuri agrees, laughing, while Georgi takes on the countenance of a wounded animal and sighs very deeply.  Mila pats him on the shoulder.

“This is why I said we need the vodka,” Yakov mutters.  Lilia lets out a sharp bark of laughter, while Nikolai just shakes his head, obviously amused.

“Let’s eat,” he decides.  “You are all here for dinner, no?  My Yurotchka had such a nice idea, gathering everyone here.  Thank you again, Yurotchka—I am glad hearing so much laughter in our home.  Thank you all for coming!”  He turns to Yuuri and adds, “And thank you for helping Yurotchka, Yura—I am deeply grateful that you are there for him when he needs it.  You as well, Vitya.”

Yuuri smiles bashfully and ducks his head, feeling warm inside.  “It was no problem, really!”

“Here’s the plates!” Mila calls, pulling a stack out of the cabinet.  “I know you guys already set the table, but with this many of us, I figure it’s probably easier to just do this buffet-style.  Free-for-all!”

“ _No_ , there will be an _orderly line_ , and nobody is pushing, shoving, or breaking any dishes,” Lilia corrects.  “Since this is in honor of Kolya’s birthday, he should go first.  And then Yuri and Yuuri, because they put this together.”

“No, no, I can go last,” Yuuri starts to say, but he falters under that unflinching gaze and just nods meekly instead.  “Or… third, I guess…”

Viktor just shrugs, then wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist from behind and tugs him back against his chest, humming.  The cat in Yuuri’s arms finally decides she’s had enough cuddling and wriggles, so he lets her jump down, and she trots out of the kitchen back into the front room.

Eventually, after some scrounging for extra chairs, everyone ends up crammed around the Plisetskys’ dining table, which was originally made to seat _four_.  Viktor has seized the lack of seating as an opportunity to point out that Yuuri can sit in his lap, which Yuuri readily agreed to do (because, after all, they _don’t_ have enough chairs for everyone, and it’s much easier than making anyone stand or attempting to drag a big armchair from the living room in). 

Mila and Yuri are sharing a chair as well, side-by-side and constantly bickering over who’s taking up more space (“Babacheva, I swear to god, this is _my_ half of the chair—” “But Yura, you’re smaller than me!  Seating is proportional to who _needs_ it!”), while Georgi shakes his head and Yakov looks like he’s ready to explode.  Nikolai and Lilia are engaged in a riveting conversation about the different brands of pointe shoes.

Yuuri looks around with a smile.  Everything came together so nicely!  He’s really happy for Yuri, and really glad it turned out well.  Even though the extra four people were a bit of a shock, it’s good—he can tell Yuri is happy, and Nikolai seems over the moon.

He takes some rice and curry (his mother’s recipe, which he didn’t make _quite_ as well as she does, but Yuri said Nikolai wanted to try some after hearing so much about it, along with katsudon) and holds it to Viktor’s lips, then takes some more for himself.

“Good?”

“Always,” Viktor hums.  He gives Yuuri a squeeze, looking around the room.  “You make such wonderful things happen.”

Yuuri looks up at him, smiling, and puts down the spoon to stroke his cheek.  “And you inspire me to do that.”

“They’re _so cute_ ,” Mila whispers across the table.  Heat rushes to Yuuri’s face, but he laughs and offers her a slightly sheepish grin.  “Everything they do is Instagram-worthy, hashtag ‘couple goals’!”

Viktor winks.  “I know.”

Yuri stands up suddenly, waving his phone.  “I forgot!” he exclaims.  “Hey, I’m getting a picture.  Stop eating, Katsudon!  Look at the camera!”

“We could make it a video,” Georgi suggests.  “Everyone sing happy birthday!”

“Yes!” Mila claps her hands.  “Sit back down, Yura, you need to be in it.  I’ll take it!”

Yuri seems all too thrilled to take the entire seat when Mila stands up.  “Yeah, sure.  On three!”

“I warn you,” Lilia says dryly, “Yakov here cannot sing to save his life.”

A laugh goes around the table.

“That’s okay,” Nikolai says, patting Yakov’s shoulder.  “It is the thought which counts.”

“One!” Yuri says quickly, before they can all get distracted and start talking again.  Mila holds up her phone, and Yuri finishes counting.  “Two, and three!”

They sing.

* * *

**milababs**

[video]

_♥ phichit+chu, sara-crispino, christophe-gc, and 11,372 others_

**milababs** #HBD to Nikolai Plisetsky, @yuri-plisetsky’s wonderful grandfather!!!! Yura and @yuuri-katsudon made a looot of delicious food, and @v-nikiforov got a white van and kidnapped me, @georgip, Yakov, and Lilia for dinner.

**sara-crispino** Happy birthday, Mr. Plisetsky!!!!! ♥

**jjleroy15** WOW!!!  That looks so good, and happy birthday, Mr. P!!!

**christophe-gc** Do wish Mr. Plisetsky a happy birthday from me, too!

**phichit+chu** tfti??? smh……… (no but really I hope you guys had fun!! and hbd mr p!!! man, i miss yuuri’s cooking  </3)

**v-nikiforov** @phichit+chu I’m a very lucky man!! (*＾∀＾)～☆

**yuri-plisetsky** thanks for all the birthday wishes, everyone. grandpa is really happy. :)

**milababs** @yuri-plisetsky GASP!!!!!!! a HAPPY FACE?!?!

**yuri-plisetsky** @milababs ……………don’t ruin this

**milababs** @yuri-plisetsky hahahaha okay, i won’t! go smooch your grandpa for me  <3 and your cats!

**yuri-plisetsky** @milababs ok

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was also supposed to be yuri&yuuri, but viktor just kept sticking his butt in to be like "hello! greetings!!! i have Lots Of Love to give!!!!" so i guess it's sort of a podium family fic now??


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